A/N: All right human beings, here it is: I Never Lived, the sequel to Lock and Key. (It's not necessary to read the first story, for any newcomers. You'll be completely fine reading this one). I got plenty of people on my case about how I ended Lock, lol! I know—it was a tad cruel. I apologize. :Evil smirk: But I always dreamed of ending it like that! Before I even had the first chapter written out, I knew it would stop in that fashion. Anyway, here's a new story, the follow-up. Lived won't be as long as Lock, at least 10 chapters shorter. It will, however, have a lot of drama and shite happening. I originally wanted to add song lyrics, but seeing as how that's not allowed!...

Nevertheless, I'll press on. Let's hope it doesn't take me a year to finish this story, lol. My goal is 6 months. If I stay focused and my sophomore year of college isn't too demanding, I can do it. I'll try to incorporate a lot of what's really happening (or what happened) in the series so I don't stray too far from the actual HP plot, but not everything will be parallel (obviously). I still need my own twist. Oh, here is a note for people who do not like or support H/H: do not read this fic, if it bothers you. It is Harry and Hermione. Sorry! I know what happened in the Half Blood Prince, but whatever :D

Moving on! That's enough rambling. Here is the first chapter to my new story. Hope it's satisfactory….

I Never Lived

Chapter 1

He was her first mistake. This was what Hermione Granger decided as she sat at the polished wooden table, mindlessly scribbling on a piece of parchment. Of course, this thought had been on her mind for quite some time now, but it was only now that she admitted it to herself. Yes; he had been her first mistake, eight years ago. But could not profit come from mistakes? Was there no such thing as a good one?

Hermione certainly thought so. In her opinion, anyone who thought differently had a narrow view of what was what. That, and the fact that he or she had never heard of, or known, Harry Potter. Her hand passed dangerously close to the green mug of cold coffee that she had set down hours earlier as she continued doodling. A faint smile elicited her face. Harry…. She missed him, and he undoubtedly wasn't here with her now.

That was one of Hermione's problems: she missed him too much, even when it didn't make complete sense to miss him. Ah, but mistakes were often like that… they had the potential to have a hold on you, haunt you….

"Hermione! Darling!" a voice sang out as it suddenly slammed into her, like a train. It was enough to startle her. She jumped, and sent her cup flying off her desk.

"Oh, sorry about that! I've got it, love," the voice apologized. The owner, a young woman, stepped inside the office and took out her wand. She merrily said a spell and the mug flew back to its rightful spot, cold coffee in tact and all.

"Natalie—y-you caught me off guard!" Hermione said, steadying herself.

"Obviously." Natalie smiled, hands on her hips.

"Er, um… what's up?"

"You are wanted up front." Hermione glanced at the Muggle clock on her wall. She only had less than 20 minutes before her shift ended; she dearly hoped whomever it was did not require something massive of her.

"Thanks Natalie," she recognized, sighing a bit and standing up.

"Always, dearie," the blonde witch grinned, leaving the room.

Hermione straightened her thin, periwinkle blue robes and then left her office. They had three vertical, golden B's and were open so that one could clearly see her Muggle clothing underneath. All of the employees in her building wore the exact same thing, including the Muggle attire. It was their uniform and a part of the business' image.

The Muggleborn walked down the sunlit hall and made a left, into a much shorter corridor with a single, large door at the end of it. She magicked her brown hair into a bun before opening the door and entering the first, spacious floor of Books, Bludgers, & Batteries. Natalie had just returned to her massive place on the left, that served as a desk and check-out stand. To the right were about four sitting areas with three comfortable chairs each, all light blue or gold in color. Bookshelves, filled with books, lined the walls, and even spread out onto the floor. There were also oak tables and chairs placed strategically between the bookshelves and sitting areas.

Hermione scanned the vicinity, vaguely noting the few customers and two other workers. No one appeared to be waiting, or even there…

"Natalie?" Hermione carefully began, walking towards her station. Before her co-worker could respond, a very loud, intentional cough was given somewhere behind her. She turned around, catching a brief glimpse of the staircase that led to the second floor, only to see her mistake.

"Harry," she breathed, beaming. Harry Potter stood against a wall with his hands in his robe pockets, grinning. His black hair was the same as it had been in the morning since seeing him (and would always be the same: perpetually messy), and his green eyes were shining.

Yes, a few hours of separation and Hermione had already begun to miss him. However, that feeling vanished immediately upon looking at him.

"What are… what are you doing here?" she asked, positively delighted.

"I thought I'd buy a good book, not come to see my girlfriend," he answered, moving towards her. She tried to frown but could not.

"I mean, shouldn't you be at work?"

"Define work."

"Harry…"

"All right, so I might have left two hours early," he replied lightly, not meeting her eyes and smiling.

"Harry." Hermione bluntly said, staring at him. She managed to conjure up and actual frown.

"Oh, Medwick'll get over it! I've done worse."

"I'm sure," she muttered, "Well, are you going to go home, or wait—"

"We're leaving together. Now." Harry told her, looking amused.

"But I'm not off yet! I've still got—"

"To go get your things and come with me."

"Harry, I can't." Hermione insisted.

"Yes you can! I did," he rationalized.

"Yes, and it was wrong! Harry, you really cannot simply do whatever you want. There are consequences, and others depending on you! You know, you really—"

"Oh, go on Hermione," Natalie proclaimed, having heard their conversation. They both looked at her, "You are the most devoted person here! You've only got 15 minutes left. Besides, you weren't exactly multi-tasking when I came in." The brunette blushed a bit.

"But—" she started.

"Alex and I can handle things, and Talia comes in at four, which is in 15 minutes. Friday afternoons are a bit slow anyway."

"See?" probed Harry, happily.

"Go enjoy the rest of your day." Natalie remarked, sorting papers.

"Thanks Natalie," he grinned. Before Hermione could protest, he grabbed her hand and shot for the door she had just come through, labeled Employees Only. Harry said the necessary incantation and was allowed access to open it.

"You know, I should have never told you the spell to get back here," she noted.

"But you did. And, I'm in your office enough."

"Yes, though half the time it's unexpected."

"I like surprising you," he mischievously grinned. Hermione quickly looked away, refusing to let his smile unarm her anymore than it already did.

They passed the office of Gladys Tomain, which happened to be the only other office in Books, Bludgers & Batteries, and the largest. (The other three rooms in the Employee wing of the building were the stockroom, lounge, and bathroom). Gladys was the founder of the bookshop and Hermione was relieved to see she was too immersed in something to notice them passing, for she would have surely spotted Harry. Nonetheless, the two hurried by quickly.

Once in Hermione's office, Harry closed the door. She exhaled and let her hair back down.

"It was only me, Alex, and Natalie today. Gladys was here, obviously, but she's not a true employee, is she," she began, "But Fridays are a trifle slow, well, until the evening hits. Natalie has until six, but she did get here two hours after I did."

"What were you doing before I came?" Harry wondered, arms folded and eyes solely on her.

"You mean before you basically guaranteed your extermination," Hermione wryly smiled. He laughed, but kept with his staring at her, "Well, I was… thinking."

"About?"

"You." In a flash, he had closed the feet between them and locked his lips on hers, seizing her waist. She responded, after her initial surprise, by throwing her arms around his neck. She sighed and kissed him back, eagerly.

Some time later after their intense snog session (that had eventually been carried out on Hermione's desk), Harry and Hermione left the Three B's and were strolling down one of Diagon Alley's streets, holding hands.

"So, did you leave headquarters terribly early just to snog me?" she questioned.

"Yes," he answered truthfully, "It was so bad that it was driving me mad. I just had to. Now, a shag would have satisfied me even more, but I didn't think you'd have approved that in your office."

"No, I wouldn't have." Hermione concurred, throwing him a scandalized look.

"Right. We'll just save the shagging for my office." Harry said, grinning evilly. Hermione's mouth fell open in embarrassment and she blushed mightily. After a few seconds she shut her jaw and looked forward determinedly, still red.

"What are we going to do now?" the former Head Girl inquired. She knew what she would have been doing normally: waiting for Harry to get off while she waited at their flat, usually with a book to keep her company. That, or either staying at Books, Bludgers & Batteries and putting in extra hours.

"Let's go to the Ministry."

"The Ministry? You just came from there." Hermione pointed out, looking at him once more.

"Yes, but we're going to see Ron," he told her.

"Why? You're not going to try to convince him to be irresponsible and skive off his job, are you?"

"No," laughed Harry, "I thought we could all go to diner. I just wanted to ask him."

"Oh, all right," she agreed, noting it was a lovely idea. The three of them hadn't been out together as a lone trio for at least two weeks, in which they could merely be the best friends that they were. And their last nightly outing had been with Luna Lovegood, though this wasn't to say it hadn't been enjoyable.

A couple of middle aged witches passed the two and smiled warmly; one beamed. How much some people have changed, Hermione thought, or have simply gotten used to the idea of Harry and me. Memories of the first months right after Hogwarts began to flood her mind. All of the press about them, good, bad, and horrible, all of the rumors, opinions, predictions, speculation, pictures taken—all of the hounding. She remembered being on the brink of tears, outrage, and insanity; they weren't allowed a moment's rest. Hermione recalled receiving the full experience of what Harry had gone through his entire wizarding life, and it only strengthening her love and admiration for him.

There was suddenly a blinding light and a popping noise. Hermione blinked a few times and looked for the source of it dazedly, still holding Harry's hand. The cause of it stood not very far off, holding a camera and grinning widely: the wizard had taken their picture unawares. Harry glared at the man, but Hermione led him away before he could retaliate.

Maybe some things didn't change, and never would.

"Let's just Apparate there." Harry muttered, glancing surreptitiously up and down the street.

The Ministry of Magic was pleasantly active. Witches and wizards buzzed about completing or beginning tasks, fitting in conversations with fellow employees where feasible. The flying memos traversed the various departments delivering their messages, amidst the happy work that was being done. Of course, everything seemed to be happy now, everything was done with a better attitude. The entire wizarding world was much more uplifted; there was a positive light about it. And all of this, all of the changes that had occurred, made absolute sense. Ever since Lord Voldemort's demise, things had taken a drastic turn… it was as though the wizarding world could breathe again. All of the fear and anxiety it had once known, and for so long, was finally gone, and it was all in thanks to Harry Potter.

The wizards who saw Harry and Hermione walking through the Ministry's halls greeted him jovially, and some took the time to have a brief conversation. (If anything else came from Voldemort's fall, it was that Harry's fame had multiplied even more. Now, however, he was damn near regarded as a king, and by 99 of the population. Far from pleasing him, it irritated the Boy Who Prevailed). A few higher ranking Ministry officials invited Harry, and Hermione, into their lavish workplaces for longer discussions, or asked if he wanted to let the Minister know of his presence. The old Quidditch captain denied both, politely.

It took longer than anticipated to get to Ron's actual office, but this was because once the couple got to the Department of Magical Games and Sports (Ron's department), Harry was like a child at Christmas. He stopped at most every desk, door and cubicle to talk to the person about, what else, Quidditch. He was insistent to know how every team was doing, and was pulled away by Hermione every time she feared he would begin bantering about the origins of the game. (This sign was usually his reaching for a chair).

Ron's office was at the end of the corridor, the very last on the floor. (He often commented that he'd be at the front of the floor soon enough; it took time, and he'd only been working a year. But considering that he had an office while people whom had been there longer still had cubicles was saying something). Harry frequently ate his lunch in Ron's office, coming from level two, as they avidly talked Quidditch. Other topics were discussed, but 60 of their words pertained to the wizarding sport. Effects like these happened when your best friend had achieved a lifetime goal and worked for the Chudley Cannons.

They heard his voice flowing from the room in a torrent as they approached. He sounded animated but aggressive.

"So tell Yornof, no—we won't settle for the Orion 320's! Padawreski already has the 321's!"

Harry stuck his head inside. Ron Weasley sat back in his chair with his hands locked behind his neck and his long legs thrown across his desk. His blue eyes were closed, and a piece of parchment floated in mid-air, a quill dashing across it. There was orange all around, along with old Quidditch balls scattered here and there. It was quite messy but gave off a cozy feeling; in essence, it reeked of Ron.

"A-hem!" Harry remarked, his eyes having just been torn away from a poster of the Gryffindor lion. (It always grabbed his attention). Hermione stood next to him, smiling. Ron's eyes flew open.

"Harry! Hermione!" he exclaimed, grinning. He pointed his wand at the quill and it ceased what it was doing. Standing up, the redhead jerked his wand and the materials flew on his desk. He was still the same, still the youngest in his department at only 20, and still the tallest, at 6'4".

"Missed you at lunch today, Harry," Ron commented, "You would have loved it—Wilkes stopped by, and even asked about you!" Harry shook his head, exhaling angrily.

"I was stuck at headquarters. Medwick is on some bloody rampage, trying to close this case," he reported.

"Aren't… aren't you still working?"

"I am until someone notices I'm gone," he grinned.

"Excellent," grinned Ron in return.

"It is not." Hermione corrected, moving to sit down on the orange sofa. Ron looked at her, smirking.

"Yeah, Hermione's a little upset about it."

"She'll get over it," the youngest Weasley boy predicted.

"She always does," Harry added, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface. Her mouth fell open in an affronted manner as she scowled at them, "Hey Ron, mate—do you want to go to dinner later?"

"I'm always up for food!"

"That you are." Hermione mumbled, arms crossed.

"What time?" Ron asked.

"Whenever you get off." Harry said.

"At five, but I promised Luna that I'd stop by for a while… so, six?"

"We are not eating a restaurant picked by either of you," Hermione spoke up, "I will decide. I still have scars from the last time…"

"You were the only one who found anything wrong with my pick, Hermione. It was brilliant!" Ron insisted.

"I won't waste my breath by responding to that, Ron. Now, I know of this wonderful little place in London…"

"It's not Muggle, is it?"

"So what if it is," she pondered, rounding on him, "It's nice and we're going to have an enchanting time!" It came out sounding like a threat. Every single time the trio went out to Muggle establishments, Ron would find some way to bring attention to them. His favorite was complaining loudly about pound notes and pence. The last time, he had been too impatient for the waiter to refill his glass so he whipped out his wand to do it himself.

They took a risk each time they went with Ron on a Muggle outing, but Hermione was determined to educate him.

"Okay, six o'clock, Hermione's choice," Harry noted, not wanting an argument to ensue, "Just Apparate to the flat, Ron."

"Noted," the once Keeper answered brightly, beginning to resume his previous assignment, "Hey, if you see Percy on your way out, tell him to come see me. I have a, er… small gift, for him, from Fred and George!"

Harry and Hermione had almost gotten out of the Ministry without incident. As they prepared to Apparate, a voice shouted his name. His heart froze for a minute as he stood there. Oh Merlin, if it's Medwick or another Auror—

Harry was both relieved and bothered to see the Minister of Magic. He was waving and wore a broad smile. He had dark, shaven hair with gray patches on the side. He had an amicable, handsome face that could easily become stern. After Amelia Bones' murder last year by a broken, vengeful Death Eater (who was later caught and killed), Henry Roberts had been named the new Minister. He was one of the youngest in history, being only 49 years old, and had been the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

He was doing a well job of being in charge, it was simply that he had developed a liking for Harry, as strong as Fudge's had once been. And this bothered Harry. Bones hadn't been like this.

"Hello, Minister," Harry mechanically greeted.

"How are you, how are you," Roberts enthusiastically hailed, shaking his hand, "Ms. Granger." He bowed.

"Hello Minister Roberts," she replied.

"Done for the day, are you?"

"Er, yes." Harry lied.

"Superb! Do you have time for a chat in my office? Tea and biscuits?" The former Gryffindor grimaced on the inside. Yes, he had time. No, he possessed no desire.

"Actually, sir, I… have prior—urgent—matters I have to take care of," he carefully explained.

"Ah," the older wizard said, face falling ever so slightly, "Well, of course. Next time, then."

"Yes."

"See you Sunday!"

"Goodbye, sir." Roberts bowed once more to Hermione and then went on his way.

"It's a bit scary, actually," Harry murmured to her, "He knows what days I work."

Hermione plopped down on the couch in the living room and removed her shoes, sighing contently. They were back at their flat, and looking at an hour and a half before the dinner date. In reality, it was Harry's apartment. He paid the rent every month and his name was on the contract, not to mention the fact that Hermione had her own place some 20 minutes away. However, seeing as how she rarely spent time there, she essentially lived with Harry. There were two bedrooms, but one was a spare; Hermione stayed in his room. She had minimal furniture (Harry had enough for the both of them), and if she needed more clothes she'd merely zip over to her apartment.

In the main, Hermione had keepsakes and personal items in their flat. She did all of the shopping for them (Harry would come back with pure junk food; she knew from experience), half of the cooking (years with the Dursleys had benefited him in that sense), and loved his compact study. It was there she did work when not at work. Harry paid half of Hermione's rent and persisted that she keep the flat, even though she had objections for both.

"I want to help you pay, so I will. And where are you going to go when I drive you mad?" he had stated. He was simply proving his consideration, however, in knowing she did, occasionally, need her own space.

"What do you want to do now?" Hermione called, taking off her robes. She waited for a reply, and when it didn't come:

"Harry?" She looked into the hearth and waited again. They hadn't used it since the last week of February—March had begun last week.

"Harry." Hermione said, now getting up. Where was he? The kitchen and dining room were empty, so he had to be in the back.

"Harry," Hermione walked down the corridor, "What do you want to do?" Was he in the study? One look told her no. Their room, then. Was he tired? If so, she could read while he slept…. She liked that idea.

She pushed the door open and walked inside the room. The only real reason it was tidy was because of her touch. Otherwise, it would have been just as messy as Ron's own room. (His flat stayed clean, for the most part, all because of his mother and girlfriend. He refused, however, to let them touch his room). Hermione frowned at the deep blue and golden bedspread, immaculately made. Where was he?

"Har--," she commenced, turning on her heel, "Oh!" Harry stood in front of her, hands behind his back.

"Goodness! You came out of nowhere! Don't, do, that!"

"Sorry," he smiled. His right hand, wand in tow, twitched: the door closed. She looked at it, and then him.

"I know what I want to do," he slyly remarked. Before she could respond, Harry had her firmly in his arms once more and was kissing her fervently.

His hands went to her waist and began pushing her shirt up. In no time, it was at her neck. Harry slipped it over her head and carelessly tossed it aside, keeping his onslaught of kisses coming. Moving agilely, he let go of her momentarily in order to take off his black robes. He got right back into it, kissing her greedily. This go round his hands found themselves on her back, there only torelieveher of herbra.

Hermione knew what Harry wanted to do, and had no objections.

A/N: First chapter, down. Ha. The second one will be up next week and will give all the background of what happened after Harry left the Great Hall with Dumbledore, to what they do now, and what happened to other wizards Harry knew/knows. It talks about their jobs, all three, what they do, and how they got them. I didn't precisely give Harry's occupation, but you can figure it out. I didn't say his age either, but if it's March, and Ron's 20, that means Harry is… 19. Yes. He's (only) 19 in this fic.

Let's see… oh, Ron is going out with Luna. Once again, I didn't come out and say it, but I hinted heavily at it. Erm… what will come later in the story, and soon? Talk of everyone else, including the Weasleys, Draco Malfoy, old school friends and who have you.Yes, yes, I have a lot to cover and can't wait! Oh, and maybe this isn't so important, but I have to say it. I don't really believe that Harry will live at the end of the seventh book. Honestly, I don't. But I wanted to write about his life after Hogwarts if he does live, so there you have it. Okay, I need to go eat lunch because I'm starving.